


Finding Nemo

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Case Fic, Friendship, Gen, Trust Issues, White Collar Reverse Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-anklet AU-ish. Peter and Neal open up a private eye agency together, but working as partners in the real world turns out to be harder than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Nemo

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Angelita26's artwork. Written for the 2nd round of the White Collar Reverse Big Bang.

  
  
Neal's release party was a small affair. Peter brought a cake (prepared by El). Champagne was passed around (in plastic cups). Peter had earlier given Neal the key to his anklet and had left him in the privacy of his office to do the honors himself.  
  
Once everybody gathered around, Neal gave a little speech about what a difference working for the FBI had made in his life. A few agents blinked back the tears. Then the entire White Collar crew crowded around, shook Neal's hand and wished him luck in his new life. One of the probies was tasked with cutting the cake, and everybody settled down to eat and chat for a few minutes before they got back to work.  
  
  
Peter stopped by his partner's elbow. His now former partner. "Neal." He gestured with his head towards his office.  
  
Neal nodded, throwing one last grin at the agent he was talking to, before he turned to follow Peter.  
  
"So..." Peter started once the two men entered the office. "Got any plans, now that you're finally free?"  
  
Neal shrugged. "I thought I'd let my hair down for a bit. Maybe go to Europe. See the sights. Why?"  
  
In the weeks leading up to his release, Neal had promised Peter that he was never going back to the life. Peter believed that he really meant it. But there were too many temptations awaiting him out there, and there was Mozzie, who was still hanging out in Neal's apartment. Peter appreciated all the help he got from the little guy over the years, but he also knew that he was a con waiting to happen, as far as Neal was concerned. All it took was one mistake, one wrong decision, and Neal could ruin everything he'd worked for.  
  
Peter cleared his throat. "I tendered in my resignation yesterday."  
  
Neal's eyes opened wide with surprise. "You what?"  
  
"I resigned," Peter repeated. He dropped into his chair, and his gaze wandered around his office, the space he'd practically lived in these past ten years.  
  
Neal wasn't sure how to take the news. "But why?"  
  
Peter sighed. Truth was, he had grown disillusioned with the FBI after they had reneged so many times on their agreement to release Neal. He had stayed on only because he felt responsible towards Neal. He couldn't run away and leave Neal to struggle on his own. But now? "I guess I feel it's time to turn over a new page in life."  
  
"Huh." Neal took his seat across from Peter.  
  
"Yeah. And, well, I thought you might want to join me."  
  
Opening up a business together was a great opportunity for both of them. Peter could take it easy, set his own hours, his own cases. And keep an eye on Neal. Help him acclimate to his new life.  
  
"In turning over a new page?"  
  
"In a new venture."  
  
"What kind of venture?" Neal asked.  
  
Peter leaned forward and smiled at his partner. His possibly future partner. "Private investigations."  
  
  
*****  
  
Peter's going-away party two weeks later was a far more elaborate affair. Throughout his years working for the FBI he'd worked with dozens of agents. He was well-liked and many people stopped by now to wish him well in his post-bureau life.  
  
In fact, Peter found he was getting tired of smiling at people he only barely remembered, and had possibly worked with a few years ago. He caught Diana's eye, an unspoken request 'get me out of here'. Diana nodded.  
  
  
  
"Burke!" A hand clapped on Peter's shoulder. Peter turned around with a smile, only to discover it was... "Ruiz."  
  
The other agent smiled a wide smile at him. "Came by to wish you all the best."  
  
Peter just nodded, keeping his disbelief to himself. "Thanks."  
  
"Didn't get that promotion you were after, huh, Burke?"  
  
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but then thought better of it.  
  
"So," Ruiz continued, "you're going to go into business as a private eye?"  
  
"That's the idea." Peter looked around, wondering where Diana had gotten off to. "Excuse me, I-"  
  
But Ruiz wasn't about to let him go so fast. "You know, you're making a mistake."  
  
Peter wasn't expecting that. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Taking that CI of yours... Caffrey, as a partner. I don't get it. It's as if you want to fail. You know, we've got a pool going by us, how long it's gonna take till Caffrey's back on a wanted poster. I'm giving it three weeks."  
  
Just then Diana came to the rescue, appearing by Peter's side. "Hey, Peter. You're expected to give a speech."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." But Peter couldn't just let it go at that, leaving Ruiz to smirk away about Neal. "Caffrey had my back more times than I can count, Ruiz. That's more than I can say about quite a few agents, including you."  
  
"Yeah, well, don't forget you had him on a leash, and even then you had to cover for him, right? Once that leash is gone..." Ruiz made a motion of throwing it away.  
  
"Caffrey is the best partner I could ask for." Peter gave Ruiz one last glare before stalking off.  
  
Ruiz shrugged at Diana. "Touchy."  
  
But she just turned her back on him as well and hurried to catch up with Peter.  
  
  
*****  
  
But the problem was that Ruiz had a point. It's not that Peter didn't trust Neal. He did.  
  
Mostly.  
  
Usually.  
  
He trusted Neal to _want_ to do the right thing. But now that Neal was a free man, he was completely free to do whatever he pleased. No more anklet, no more 2-mile radius. More importantly, for Peter, no way to follow where he was going or what he was doing.  
  
Which was why he really tried now to spend as much time as possible with the man.  
  
  
It had been Neal's idea to turn his bakery into their office. Peter had to admit the shop was in an excellent location. Right by the court-house, with lots of foot-traffic, full of people who needed investigative help.  
  
When Peter showed up that morning, Neal was already there. Dressed in bright, white painter's overalls, he had two spray-cans in hand and was busily working on changing the storefront window into an eye-catching slogan that would cause every passer-by to stop and stare.  
  
Peter stopped and stared.  
  
It was definitely colorful. And Neal _had_ said he'd make their office stand out.  
  
Peter frowned at Neal's work. The storefront now announced in large, bold letters that this was the 'Caffrey and Burke Detective Agency'.  
  
"I thought we agreed it's going to be 'Burke and Caffrey'."  
  
Neal glanced at him, stopping to give his cans a good shake. "I don't remember agreeing to that."  
  
Peter waved a hand at the sign. "You'll have to change it. I already got the stationary".  
  
Neal stopped shaking his can. "It's already mostly finished."  
  
"So paint over it. It can't be that complicated." Peter intended that to be the end of the conversation. He reached for the door.  
  
"Wait-!" But the warning was too late. Peter hand was covered with a white streak of fresh paint.  
  
He glared at his hand, then at Neal, who shrugged with barely concealed glee.  
  
"You could have put up a sign."  
  
"Here," Neal, ever helpful, dropped his paint-cans and reached for a rag.  
  
Peter grabbed it out of Neal's hand and proceeded to make quite a mess spreading the paint all over. How come, he wondered, he had managed to get paint all over himself within five minutes of arrival, while Neal's outfit was still pristine white? He quickly gave up, and, ignoring the fresh paint, opened the door and stepped into their new office.  
  
It was still a mess inside too. The bakery itself had already been relocated elsewhere (Peter was sure Neal was making a profit off this move), and the insides were being completely redesigned. The walls had already been repainted, but there was pulled-out wiring all over the place, a fair amount of dust, and the floor needing re-carpeting.  
  
Peter made his way over to a sink by the side-wall, stumbling over a few half-empty paint cans in the process. He kicked them away in frustration, and got even more frustrated when the paint spilled out, adding to the mess.  
  
At the sink, he tried to clean his hands from the sticky paint. But soap and water didn't seem to help.  
  
A minute later Neal appeared by his side with a small bottle of turpentine. "Here." He dabbed it onto a new rag he was holding. "Give me your hand."  
  
Peter hesitated, but then put out his hand and let Neal work his magic. Indeed, within minutes there was barely any paint left. Peter turned his hand this way and that way, checking it all over for any stray splotches. "Thanks."  
  
Neal dropped the rag by the sink. "Look, Peter. We're going into unchartered territory here. It's going to take a while to get all the kinks straightened out."  
  
"Yeah." Peter sighed as he looked around. But then his sigh turned into a chuckle. "Okay. So, what do you need me to do?"  
  
*****  
  
When Peter stepped into their office three days later, things were completely different.  
  
He had let Neal take charge of the redecorating, and looking at their new office, Peter wondered whether it had been a good idea. He ran a finger along the edge of the large, imposing desk situated at the entrance. It looked like a very expensive antique. One which would have taken up most of the funds he'd allocated for the project. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"Oh..." Neal shrugged. "Around."  
  
"Did Mozzie-"  
  
"Here," Neal broke into Peter's words, "let me show you the kitchen."  
  
"We have a kitchen?" Peter asked.  
  
Neal grinned at him. "Where else would you make coffee?"  
  
Peter wasn't sure what he was supposed to answer to that one.  
  
"Of course," Neal continued, "we'll need to get a normal coffee machine. So we can treat our clients."  
  
"I blew through my entire retirement account just paying for the refurbishments here," Peter retorted. "You want a coffee machine, you'll have to buy one yourself."  
  
And so they settled down to their first day of work.  
  
  
Not five minutes later, a man stepped through the door, causing it to jingle. Peter and Neal exchanged a quick look of success. A client! Their very first client!  
  
Peter took charge, getting to his feet. "How can we help you?"  
  
"Uh... excuse me." The man looked around in utter confusion. "I'm looking for 'The Greatest Cake'? It's a bakery... I was told it's somewhere around here."  
  
Peter sighed, and let Neal have the floor as he explained to the man that the bakery was now two blocks away, but that it was indeed the greatest and he should take the trouble to stop by there.  
  
Once the door jingled shut, Neal turned to Peter with a quick shrug. "Next time."  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Except there wasn't a next time. Day came and day went, and soon they were finishing up their first week, and not one client.  
  
Peter spent most of his days trying to drum up business, leaving Neal to man the office and answer calls. But today they were both in. Peter was sitting by the desk, head buried in a crossword puzzle.  
  
Neal, meanwhile, was busy perfecting the most aerodynamic paper airplane. Peter wouldn't have minded so much except for the fact that Neal invariably finished up by sending his creations over in Peter's direction.  
  
He snapped when the fourth airplane landed in his lap. Dropping the newspaper on the table, he crunched the plane up into a little ball and glared at Neal. "Do you mind?!"  
  
Neal shrugged an apology. Peter threw the ball towards the trash can. It didn't help at all that he missed. He turned his frustration towards Neal. "Don't you have something better to do?"  
  
Neal indicated the paper. "Like solving crossword puzzles?"  
  
"Like helping out in finding a client! Do I need to do _everything_ myself?"  
  
Before Neal could answer, the door jingled open. As one, both men turned with a smile to greet their new client.  
  
It was a little black girl, about eleven-twelve, who looked a little hesitant. "Hi."  
  
"Hey." Neal got up from his chair. "If you're looking for the bakery-"  
  
"I'm looking for the private detectives."  
  
"That would be us," Neal said.  
  
The girl crossed over to the desk and reached up to put down a crumpled bill. It was soon joined by a couple of coins she'd fished out of her jeans pocket. "I'd like to hire you."  
  
Peter cleared his throat. They had just gotten $5.15 as retainer for their first case. "Did your grandma send you?" He figured that June had sent one of her grandkids.  
  
But that earned him a very confused look. "My grandma?"  
  
Neal rolled his eyes. "Don't pay him any attention. What did you want to hire us for?" he asked.  
  
"To find Nemo."  
  
Peter chuckled. "Have you tried Australia?" But he quieted down when Neal shushed him with a silent glare.  
  
"Who's Nemo?" Neal asked once he turned back to the girl.  
  
"My puppy. He's small." She put her hands out in an approximate size. "And reddish, with, like, white stripes, and he's very cute."  
  
Peter was about to let the little girl down easy, explain to her that they weren't a 'lost and found' bureau, and that maybe she should try putting up signs first. But before he could utter the words, Neal was already smiling at the girl. "Of course we'll find him."  
  
Neal grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen and started writing down a list. "Small", "Reddish", "White stripes," and a line beneath it - "Very cute".  
  
He chewed at the end of his pen as he considered this description, then looked up at the girl. "Do you have any pictures?"  
  
The girl shook her head. She looked so sad, Peter was afraid she'd burst out crying right then and there.  
  
"Okay..." Neal smiled at her, "so how about we draw one together?"  
  
He elicited a small smile from the girl, and an apoplectic heart attack from Peter.  
  
"I... I need a glass of water," he muttered as he headed out. Neither boy nor girl paid him any attention.  
  
*****  
  
The next day, Neal was hard at work when Peter stepped into the office. He didn't even look up.  
  
Peter stopped by the desk, and glanced at the papers spread out over it. There were newspaper clippings, a few lost & found ads.  
  
"Whatcha doing?"  
  
"I'm looking into the lost puppy case."  
  
Peter chuckled, but then realized Neal didn't look like he was joking. "Seriously?"  
  
Neal looked up at Peter, surprised. "I think it's not just a lost puppy."  
  
Peter picked up one of the stray papers. It featured a cute brown dog under the heading "Lost". "So we're talking a few lost puppies?"  
  
"Yes. In fact-"  
  
Peter didn't really have the strength to deal with this right now. If Neal wanted to focus on a $5 case, that was his prerogative. At least until they found a normal paying client. "If you want the case, it's yours."  
  
"Really?" Neal asked in surprise.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're sure? Because-"  
  
"Sure I'm sure," Peter confirmed.  
  
"Great." Neal smiled at Peter, then moved a few papers aside and went back to his work. "I'll update you if I find anything."  
  
Peter just nodded and moved off to get a coffee (Neal had gotten them a machine, Peter had wisely decided not to ask from where). When he returned, coffee cup in hand, Neal was buried in his work.  
  
"Neal," Peter said, waiting for his partner to pay attention. "I'm going out later... so if you go out to hang signs or anything, just lock up here."  
  
Neal looked at him and blinked. "Sure."  
  
*****  
  
That evening, Peter stopped by Diana. The two were sitting on the couch, while little Teddy was crawling around on the throw rug at their feet, throwing sunny smiles at his mother every so often.  
  
"I can't believe we actually took this case," Peter was bemoaning to his former agent. "That _he_ took this case. A lost puppy!"  
  
Diana managed to hide her smile.  
  
"I'm starting to think maybe I've made a mistake. A terrible mistake."  
  
"Because Caffrey agreed to help out a kid with a problem?"  
  
Peter glanced at her, then shook his head. "It's not just that. Look, until now Neal had boundaries. He could come up with whatever quirky ideas, but it had to go through me." Usually. And when it didn't go through Peter, Peter had to deal with the consequences.  
  
Diana could see where this was going. "And now he can do whatever he wants."  
  
Peter nodded. "Exactly. Now he can do whatever he wants."  
  
"I thought you said Neal was the best partner you could ask for."  
  
Peter just gave her a look. "I don't know."  
  
"Look, Neal hasn't done anything wrong so far."  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"You sound as though you're expecting him to."  
  
That earned Diana another look of exasperation from Peter. "He's Neal."  
  
"He'll live up to your expectations."  
  
"It's not only that. I've been meeting with potential clients. You know, I thought it would be a breeze. I have contacts. I know law enforcement, lawyers, judges. I thought it would be easy to leverage that into private cases."  
  
"And it's not?" Diana asked.  
  
"Not with Caffrey on the ticket. I mean, he's an ex-con. People don't mind if he'd do their dirty work for them. They don't mind if _I_ hire him."  
  
"But they don't want to hire him themselves." Diana stopped to pick up Teddy, bouncing him on her lap. "Neal knows about it?"  
  
Peter shook his head.  
  
Diana glanced at her former boss. "You should talk to him. You're partners now. If you've got a problem, you need to solve it together."  
  
*****  
  
After Neal's release, June had asked him to stay in her rooftop apartment. It's not as if she really needed the FBI's monthly $700 check. Neal had promised her that he'll start paying rent as soon as he was drawing a regular monthly salary, and that was more than enough for her.  
  
That night Neal and Mozzie were sitting round the kitchen table, a bottle of Cabernet between them. It was one of the last bottles from Neal's collection and Mozzie looked at it disapprovingly. "You're not doing the Suit any favors, you know, abstaining from all the good the world out there wants to give you."  
  
Neal sighed. "Can we focus here for a moment?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Great. I've got at least three dogs who disappeared in that area. All purebreds."  
  
Mozzie shrugged. "So there's a thief working the neighborhood."  
  
"So it seems," Neal agreed. "The question is, how do I find him?"  
  
"Or her," Mozzie mused. "What does the Suit say?"  
  
"He says it's my case."  
  
"I see."  
  
Neal had reached for the bottle to refill his glass, but he now paused mid-way. "See what?"  
  
"Oh, nothing." Mozzie sipped his wine. "Why isn't the Suit working this case too? I thought he liked dogs."  
  
"He does," Neal agreed. "It's the non-paying clients that he doesn't like."  
  
"You're sure that's all it is?"  
  
Truth was, Neal wasn't sure about anything anymore. He wasn't Peter's CI anymore, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that that's how Peter saw him. In any case, it wasn't something he wanted to discuss right now with his (former) partner in crime. "Yes, I'm sure."  
  
"Okay. But, you know, if you're tired of this 'honestly making a living' thing, I've got a job coming up," Mozzie said. "No risk and easy money."  
  
Neal just fixed him with a a look. "I think I'll manage. Besides, Peter's working on it. I'm sure he'll find a client soon," Neal said with confidence he really didn't feel.  
  
Mozzie shook his head, then reached for his wine glass. "Okay, so we've got a dog thief."  
  
Neal was relieved to get back to business. "He must be advertising somehow."  
  
"Or he's stealing them per order."  
  
"In which case, he might not be holding them for long." Neal sighed. He hated to say it, but he had gotten used to having FBI resources at his disposal. Working with the FBI, surveillance was just a matter of filling out a form (or forging it, if necessary) and then you got assigned a team for a nightly stakeout. Now it was only Peter and him. And since Peter didn't think there was a point working this case, it left only him. "Let's assume for the moment-"  
  
A knock at the door stopped him mid-sentence.  
  
Mozzie raised an eyebrow. "You're expecting guests?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Neal got up, instinctively looking around the place to make sure that there wasn't anything illegal lying around. It had been a while since he pulled a con or heist, but old habits die hard.  
  
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Peter standing there.  
  
*****  
  
"Hey." Peter said.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Neal moved aside to let Peter in.  
  
Mozzie was gathering up his things. "I was just leaving," he announced.  
  
"I bet." Peter could guess what Mozzie was doing here. He waited till the man was gone before he turned to Neal. "Look, we need to talk."  
  
Neal knew that tense look in Peter's eyes, and he knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was that Peter wanted to tell him. "You want a beer?"  
  
"Sure, thanks." Peter nodded. Not that he really wanted to drink anything, but he appreciated the distraction.  
  
"So..." Neal asked once they were seated round the table. Peter was sitting in Mozzie's spot, beer bottle in hand, and Neal had refilled his wine glass. "What did you want to talk to me about?"  
  
Peter hesitated, unsure how to introduce the subject. "Our clients."  
  
"We got a client?" Neal cheered up.  
  
"Well... No. Not exactly. Not yet." Peter cleared his throat. "You see, Neal-"  
  
But Neal had a better idea. "Oh, maybe I should come with you next time, help you close the deal?" He certainly had the experience in convincing people to take him on for things they didn't really need.  
  
"I don't think that would help."  
  
"Really? Because so far whatever it is _you're_ doing doesn't seem to help either."  
  
Peter hadn't expected to find himself under attack. "Look, I'm-" He trailed off, then caught sight of the papers strewn about the table. "You're still working on that missing dog?"  
  
Neal glanced at the papers. He'd had it with Peter's complaints. "You know what, maybe we should trade. How about _I'll_ get us the cases and _you_ solve them for once?"  
  
"For once?" Peter echoed in surprise. "You think that's how things went when you were a CI?"  
  
"Didn't it?" Neal answered back flippantly.  
  
"You know what?" Peter had enough as well. "I wouldn't have a problem getting clients if I didn't have an ex-con as a partner." There. He'd said it.  
  
For a long moment Neal just stared at him, not saying a word. "So that's what this is all about? You feel I'm keeping you back from being the Greatest Private Eye?"  
  
"That's not..." Peter faltered. "That's not what I said."  
  
"No, but that's what you _meant_."  
  
Peter had no idea how things had deteriorated so quickly. "Neal-"  
  
"No, you know what, you're right. You can't trust me. You never did."  
  
"Jesus," Peter muttered, "this was a mistake." He should not have come here tonight.  
  
But Neal seized on that. "Maybe you're right. Maybe this was all a mistake." Neal got to his feet. "Please, I don't want to stand in your way."  
  
Peter glared at him for a long silent moment, then pushed his chair back and got to his feet as well. "Fine. You know what, I don't need this." And with that he left.  
  
Neal closed the door with a heavy heart. He had one more thing to finish, and then he'll strike out on his own.  
  
  
*****  
  
Over the next week Peter tried contacting Neal several times, but to no avail. Neal didn't show up in the office and didn't answer his phone. When Peter stopped by June's, the maid curtly told him that "Mr. Caffrey was unavailable". Peter wasn't allowed past the front door. Back when Neal was Peter's CI, he could have waved his badge and forced his way in. But he wasn't an FBI agent anymore, and Neal wasn't a criminal working for him.  
  
Peter even tries enlisting El, but her attempts to reach Neal were rebuffed as well.  
  
And so a week later, Peter was fast asleep when his phone beeped at an incoming call. In the darkness of his bedroom, he reached for his phone, on the night-table next to the bed. It took him a few false tries before his hand closed down on the machine, and then another moment until he got it to answer. "Burke," he croaked.  
  
It was Jones. "Peter, I'm sorry to bother you so late-"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Peter could hear Jones hesitating on the other side of the line.  
  
"Jones?"  
  
"I, uh, we... we just arrested Caffrey."  
  
"WHAT?!" Suddenly Peter was fully awake. He sat up in bed, ramrod straight. El blinked, awoken by the sudden commotion. "What is it, Hon?"  
  
"I had a team doing surveillance down by the docks tonight, watching a suspected warehouse. They caught him trying to break into it."  
  
Peter closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath.  
  
"He says he was working a case," Jones paused, waiting for Peter's reply.  
  
But Peter wasn't sure what to answer to that. "Okay."  
  
"And that he'll only speak to you."  
  
Peter sighed. "I'm on my way."  
  
*****  
  
Jones had put Neal in the conference room. It was better than an interrogation room - a dubious pleasure Neal had enjoyed in the past - but the agent standing ever-so-not-casually at the entrance made it clear that he was not just a guest. He was expected to stay put.  
  
Neal spotted Peter when the latter stepped off the elevator. The man looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed. Which, given the hour, was a very distinct possibility.  
  
Peter met Jones out in the bullpen, and the two exchanged a few words. Neither man looked happy, and, not for the first time, Neal wished he had Mozzie's ability to lip-read. Finally, both men headed towards the stairs.  
  
Peter was the first one in, followed by Jones, who stopped by the doorway, hands folded over his chest.  
  
"Neal, you better have a good explanation for this."  
  
Neal leaned back in his chair with his trademark smile. "I solved our case."  
  
Peter simply glared at Neal. Then he turned to his former assistant. "Jones, mind if I have a word with Caffrey alone?"  
  
Jones shrugged, and a moment later the two men were alone. Peter took a deep breath. "Cut the crap, Neal. What were you doing there?"  
  
Neal closed his eyes for a short moment. "I told you-"  
  
"We don't have a case. That's part of the problem."  
  
"We have a missing dog case."  
  
"We don't _have_ -" Peter cut himself short. "You mean the girl with the puppy?"  
  
"Kayla," Neal supplied, then sighed at Peter's complete look of befuddlement. "You told me to look into it, remember?"  
  
"I didn't tell you-" Peter again stopped mid-sentence. At this point, it didn't really matter. "So what did you find?"  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
Jones was standing at the head of the conference table. Peter and Neal were sitting to his right. The rest of the seats were taken up by FBI agents. There was a lot of coffee being poured around that table.  
  
"Okay, this is what we've got," Jones started off when he saw people were mostly settled. "This is Mark Huntington." A picture of a young smiling man appeared on the large screen behind him. "We've had an eye on him for a long time now. He runs an import/export business. All legit on the outside, but we've suspected for a while that he's running a smuggling operation. He's been under surveillance for the past couple of weeks."  
  
He glanced at Peter. "I understand you've got more on him?"  
  
"Uh, Neal does."  
  
He glanced over at Neal, who flicked a quick smile at the assembled agents. "Yeah. We were investigating a case of dog theft. We suspect this is our guy."  
  
"And how did you get to that conclusion?"  
  
Neal exchanged a look with Peter. "Word on the street."  
  
"I see," Jones said dryly.  
  
"Well," Neal continued before could be interrupted further, "that's why I was checking out his warehouse tonight. I wanted to be sure before-" he cut himself short, "uh, before we informed the authorities."  
  
Jones rolled his eyes. "You realize you could have blown our entire operation."  
  
"Wait a second," Peter objected, rising to his partner's defense. "We couldn't have possibly known the FBI were looking into him too."  
  
"No. But you could have known that it's illegal to break into a warehouse in the middle of the night." Jones fixed his stare at Neal.  
  
"Okay, look." Neal raised his hands to calm both men down. "Right now we have the goods on Huntington. You can move on him."  
  
"We don't have any goods," Jones said. "Unless you've got evidence you hadn't shared with the rest of the class?"  
  
"I would have gotten evidence if your agents hadn't stopped me."  
  
"Not evidence we could have used for a warrant."  
  
Neal shook his head, and tried to focus on the important things. "I know he's keeping the dogs inside the warehouse. I could hear them."  
  
"That doesn't help us at all."  
  
Now it was Peter's turn to try and calm down the bickering men. "How about we set up a sting operation?"  
  
"We?" Jones beat Neal to asking the question.  
  
But Neal quickly got over his surprise. He grinned at the suggestion. "It's not as if we haven't done this before."  
  
Jones considered the idea, then slowly nodded. "Okay, so what do you suggest?"  
  
*****  
  
On a break from planning the op, Peter caught up with Neal in the break area.  
  
Neal poured himself a mug of coffee, then sniffed at it before taking a careful sip. He winced.  
  
Peter chuckled, drawing Neal's attention. "Well, at least the coffee's still the same," Neal said sheepishly.  
  
"Indeed. Look, I'll speak to Jones-"  
  
"I already spoke to him," Neal said. "He said he's not going to make a Federal case out of this."  
  
"Oh. Good." Peter was quietly relieved. The thought of Neal being arrested now, while trying to solve a case... Peter blamed himself. He should have stayed involved.  
  
Neal stared at his coffee, then back at Peter. "I guess I lived up to Ruiz's expectations."  
  
Ouch. "You heard about that?"  
  
Neal nodded.  
  
Peter was going to wring that man's neck. "You're not in my way," he said after a slight pause. Those were the words he'd been meaning to tell Neal all week, if only he'd been given the chance.  
  
Neal looked back up from his coffee.  
  
"We're a team, Neal. Partners, right? We did our best work together."  
  
"Well," Neal said, "I wouldn't say _my_ best-"  
  
"I'm talking legally," Peter cut him off. Neal smiled, encouraging Peter to continue. "This is unchartered territory."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But if there's one thing I'm sure of, Neal, is that I want to chart it together with you."  
  
"Hey!" Jones interrupted them, calling out from the conference room. "Break's over!"  
  
Peter put out his hand, and Neal grabbed it. "Now let's show the FBI what Burke and Caffrey can do."  
  
"Caffrey and Burke," Neal corrected, eliciting a chuckle from Peter.  
  
  
  
  
== Epilogue ==  
  
Bringing Huntington down was a piece of cake. Peter and Neal were sent out as the lures, businessmen interested in buying purebreds. Huntington agreed to the deal, and Jones was there to take him down.  
  
The FBI agents found five dogs, all stolen purebreds, inside the warehouse, and Jones later invited the two detectives to the FBI offices, to be present when the dogs were returned to their owners. There were a lot of smiles and hugs (and licking) all around.  
  
After girl and puppy were reunited, Kayla's father approached them. "I can't thank you enough for helping Kayla out. My wife and I thought Nemo had run off. He'd done it before."  
  
"Oh, really?" Peter gave Neal a look. For all the man's 'detective work', he hadn't stumbled across that little fact.  
  
Neal chuckled lightly. "But as it turns out, that wasn't the case here."  
  
"No. I'll contact your office to take care of the bill."  
  
Neal waved that off before Peter could stop him. "No need. Kayla already paid us."  
  
"Right." The man produced a business card and handed it to Neal. "Anyway, I'll be in touch. I could use your help too," he added with a smile.  
  
Neal glanced down at the man's card. He was an insurance broker.  "We'd be glad to help any way we can."  
  
  
Later, as Neal and Peter were saying their own goodbyes, Neal turned to Peter. "You know, maybe we should publish our exploits. The first book can be called 'Caffrey and Burke and the Case of the Missing Puppy'"  
  
"You mean 'Burke and Caffrey'," Peter corrected, by now second-naturedly, "and it would be more like a booklet."  
  
Neal rolled his eyes.  
  
"Come on," Peter clapped Neal's arm, "if you want a full-length novel, we've got a lot of work to do."  
  
Neal grinned. "Then let's get to work."


End file.
